


Sleepwalking

by sweeterthanstrawberries



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 40's au, A little angst, Bucky barnes/reader - Freeform, Bucky x Reader, Bucky x You - Freeform, Bucky/Reader - Freeform, Bucky/You - Freeform, But mostly fluff, Everyone lives, F/M, Fluff, bucky barnes x you - Freeform, bucky barnes/you - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:33:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25493158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthanstrawberries/pseuds/sweeterthanstrawberries
Summary: Bucky walks you home after a midnight stroll in your sleep.
Relationships: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you guys enjoy <3

A shift in balance caused by your foot catching on a loose cobblestone jolts you awake. Wide eyed and panting, you realize that you are, yet again, barefoot in the middle of town in only your nightgown. This is getting out of hand.

The first time this happened, you chalked it up as a really weird dream that led you out the door. You didn’t expect it to ever happen again. Until it did. A few nights later, you found yourself not quite as far away from home as before, but still out of the house and in the middle of a deserted street. Your doors are always locked, but you must be able to unlock them in your sleep, frightening yourself more than the walking ever does.

Briskly and quietly, you shuffle back home, trying to avoid the broken glass and nails you had thankfully missed during your unconscious stroll. You lock your door firmly and crawl back into bed. Sleep does not come quickly, the unsettling feeling of the unknown reason for your sleepwalking keeping you awake.

***

Tempted to put your shoes on as you get in bed, you snuggle under the covers uneasily. The fear of waking up far from where you fell asleep paralyzes your thoughts until the patter of rain on the roof of your small home lulls you into a slumber. 

***

“Excuse me, miss?” a gentle shake on your shoulder snaps you out of your sleeping state, panic and fright seeping into every corner of your rational mind. A heavy set of shivers begins to shake your body almost uncontrollably, due to the cold rain soaking into your nightgown, as well as the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“Miss, are you alright?” the voice asks again. Turning to find the source, you are met eye to eye with a tall man in a crisp, green uniform. 

Words escape you. You would think that you should be used to waking up on your feet by now, but it still scares the living daylights out of you. Trying to formulate a sentence, you feel a heavy coat being wrapped around your shoulders.

The man now stands in front of you in only a thin shirt that is becoming increasingly see-through the longer he is in the rain. Realizing that your nightgown must look the same, you are suddenly extremely grateful for the man’s kind offering.

“Miss, I don’t mean to hurt you. My name’s Bucky,” he smiles softly, genuinely. “Can I help you get home?”

You can only nod your head, tugging his uniform a little closer to your body. Walking the familiar sidewalks to your house, Bucky by your side, you feel uneasy. You do not yet trust this man, even though he has given you every reason to. 

Stopping a block away from where you live, you peel away his uniform from your shoulders and hand it back to him, muttering a quiet ‘thank you.’ 

“Good-night, Miss,” Bucky says with a slight nod of his head. He turns away, walking in the opposite direction, throwing a glance over his shoulder at you watching his retreating form.

***

Upon waking in your own bed the next morning, you realize just how attractive the man who found you last night was. Bucky. You were too shaken up to really notice it before.

Finding your thoughts drifting to him throughout the day, you begin to wonder what he was doing in the middle of town at what must have been two in the morning. He is obviously a soldier passing through, but you can’t stop yourself from hoping that you’ll run into him again in the light of day.

***

Handing the vendor the coins from your purse, you take the small bag of fruit in hand and set off for home. You look through the bag as you go, checking for any bad pieces before you get too far.

So involved in your fruit checking, you don’t notice the tear growing larger in the bottom of the bag. A plunk, followed by a few more, sound against the sidewalk. Heaving a sigh, you bend down to pick up the rogue fruit and find that another hand is helping you.

The same man from last night, Bucky, is gathering the fruit quickly off the ground, and holding them in his hands. You meet his bright blue eyes that seem to smile as wide as his lips. Awkwardly smiling yourself, you say, “Thank you, again.”

Standing up with handfuls of fruit, he offers, “Can I walk you home?”

You glance around and see no imminent threat, so you agree with a nod. You can’t quite believe that you are seeing him again, thinking that the rescue from yourself would be the only chance you had with the handsome man.

Unlike the night before, you are able to carry light conversation. You learn that Bucky is indeed passing through with his troop that is stationed just outside of town. You learn that he’s from America, Brooklyn to be exact, and his full name is James Buchanan Barnes. You tell him about yourself, finding your fences lowering the longer you chat.

The red door of your house halts you both. Fishing the key out of your dress pocket, you unlock the entrance and lead Bucky into your kitchen so he can set down your fallen fruit.

“‘S not where you took me last night,” he says lightheartedly.

You hum, “Yes. You can never be too careful around strange men you meet in the middle of the night.” You shoot him a sideways glance, testing his reaction.

He just smiles wider and agrees.

“Well, Bucky, thank you for coming to my rescue again,” you say.

“Happy to do it,” he stops, realizing that he doesn’t know your name.

“Y/N,” you finish.

He repeats your name softly, the name sounding sweet on his tongue.

“I’ll let you get back to your day,” Bucky says as he begins walking back to the door.

Following him out, your curiosity gets the best of you and you blurt, “What were you doing out last night?”

He turns to look at you from the other side of the doorstep. “Couldn’t sleep,” he shrugs with a coy smile.

Spinning on his heel, he walks away whistling, throwing one last look over his shoulder before turning the corner and disappearing out of sight. You have a feeling this won’t be the last time you are saved by Bucky Barnes.


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky finds himself roaming the streets at night, watching for you, almost hoping that you’ll be out sleepwalking again. He can’t sleep much anyway, worrying about the war and Steve back at home.

A soft pittering of bare feet on stone hits his ears, and he immediately makes his way to the sound, sure that it will be you. Bucky peeks around the corner and sees your eyes closed, balanced precariously upright, steadily walking towards him.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he strides over to place a hand on your shoulder and give you a slight shake. “Doll, it’s me.”

Your eyes blink open to find Bucky inches away from you. Groggily, you whisper, “Oh, Bucky. Caught me again, haven’t you?”

He grins at your tiredness, and begins to direct you back home. “You really should start wearing shoes to bed, sweetheart,” he says softly in your ear, an arm securely wrapped around your shoulders.

“Maybe so,” you say through a yawn.

Silently, the two of you walk, or rather hobble, to your house. The whole way, your shoulder leans on Bucky, too tired to really see straight. Upon returning you home, Bucky eases you into bed, pulls the covers up to your chin, plants a quick kiss to your hairline, and quietly walks out the door.

***

Turning over in bed, you blink your eyes awake. Hazy memories of Bucky cloud your mind, but the more you try and grasp them, the more they elude you. You are almost convinced that it was just a dream, but there seems something so real about what you remember.

Getting out of bed, you start your day, ready to go to work at the seamstress’ shop. You quickly eat breakfast and walk down the street, thinking about the dreamlike memory of Bucky from last night. The shop owner, a kind heavy set woman, greets you when she hears the bell ring at the door. 

“There is a coat that needs repairing at the sleeve on your desk,” she says, nodding to your workbench.

You take the green fabric in hand, running your fingers over the lapels, familiarity tugging at your mind. Settling down and getting to work, you can’t help but fight the feeling that you have seen this coat before. It is obviously a soldier’s and American.

Pulling the last few stitches through, you hear the bell ring. You don’t look up until a smooth voice cuts the air, causing your breath to catch. Bucky Barnes is standing in the front of the store, talking to the owner who is pointing at you.

A broad grin spreads across his face as he struts to your bench.

“Hello, again,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning forward.

“Hello,” you greet quietly.

“Thanks for mending my coat.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, handing it back to him.

You look at his bright smile and beautiful blue eyes. The same eyes that keep reappearing in your life. 

“I’m happy to see you awake and well,” he says, looking for ways to talk to you.

You hum in agreement and ask him something that has been eating away at you since you woke up. “Was I out walking last night?” 

He looks at you, features soft and full of kindness, yet bashful.

“Yeah, you were. I took you back home,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

Closing your eyes and shaking your head, you mumble, “Thank you.”

“‘S no problem,” he replies intently.

“Would you like to come to dinner tonight?” you ask, wanting to repay him for all that he has done to help you.

“What time?” 

***

The grandfather clock chimes 6:30, and you glance around the room, moving to the table to shift the plate a little to the left and slide the candlesticks more to the center. Your nervous fiddling has kicked in, so you are happy to hear the solid rap of knuckles on wood, stopping your last minute fixations.

Behind the door stands Bucky, dressed in his newly mended uniform jacket and soldier’s cap. A nervous smile shows his straight teeth and subtle dimples. 

“Come in, please,” you gesture to the kitchen down the hall, taking his hat and coat from him.

“Nice to be back,” he says sweetly, hiding amusement in his tone.

The two of you settle down at the table in front of modest plates of potatoes and roast chicken. You sneak a glance at him and see that same grin on his face that he seems to always sport when you are around.

“Looks delicious,” he praises.

“I know it’s not much,” you start.

“It’s perfect,” he assures, placing a tentative hand on yours.

You spend the evening talking about everything: families, hometowns, books, the war. Bucky’s laugh lifts the air around you, warming your heart and pulling at threads in your stomach. You realize that you are falling in love with him, his words, his heart. And you don’t want to stop.

When you have finished eating and have made it through dessert, he stands and takes the dish from your place. Bucky carries it to the sink, setting it gently on the metal.

“Thank you for dinner,” he says, turning to find you standing behind him, hands knotted together.

“Thank you for coming,” you nod.

Bucky begins to walk to the door, and you follow. You grab his coat from the rack and help him into it. Your hands put his hat back on his head, but they don’t stray far as they come to rest on his shoulders. Bucky’s eyes look to yours, hopeful and soft.

Leaning in slowly, he catches your lips in a kiss. It is slow and chaste, saying goodbye and ‘I love you’ all at once. You pull away and cast your eyes to his chest, almost embarrassed, but he just lifts your chin with a hand and whispers, “I hope to see you again.”

With a slight nod, you brush your hands off his shoulders and down his arms, holding his hands in yours. A quick kiss to his cheek, and you lead him out the door.

“Goodbye, Bucky,” you wave. “Thank you for everything.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Goodbye, Bucky,” you wave. “Thank you for everything.”

You replay that night, the feeling of his lips, his hands in yours, and him walking away from your door, in your mind, even years later. You never did see Bucky again. You knew that it was bound to happen as his station here was only temporary. Still, you couldn’t help but feel heartbroken when you no longer saw his blue eyes in the market, or felt his strong arms around you walking you home. Bucky was a promise of hope, and you had seemingly been severed from him and the hope that he brought to you. 

You tried to move on with your life, with your work at the seamstress’ shop, ignoring the pang of the memory of Bucky sauntering in to pick up his uniform jacket that was once wrapped around you in the rain. 

Your sleepwalking had stopped. It was a relief to not find yourself alone in the wet streets in the middle of the night, but a small part of you wishes you would. You wonder that if you did, would Bucky be there to take you home?

Years passed, and Bucky became just a memory. A man, one day, came into the shop to pick up a suit jacket he needed mended, and asked you out on a date. All you could think about in that moment was Bucky, leaning against your workbench, agreeing to eat dinner with you. Your heart hurt just to think of it, but your heart also knew that it useless to hang onto such things. With a nod and a smile, you accepted the offer from the man, Charles, and went on the date.

Months have passed and you and Charles are still going steady. He brings you flowers at work. Buys you jewelry for the parties he takes you to. He is incredibly kind and thoughtful, but you can’t shake the feeling that one day you are just going to wake up and it will all be gone. What scares you the most is the fact that you wouldn’t mind if it did. If it was all just a dream. If you found that Charles wasn’t who you thought he was. It would make everything easier.

***

Wet. Cold. Bruised.

Your eyes shoot open at the feeling of falling, and you find yourself on your hands and knees on the cobblestones of the street. Rain steadily pitters against the ground, your shoulders, your feet. A sob tears out of your throat, the memories of Bucky rushing back. You don’t stand but rather sink lower, resting your forehead against the grime of the street, not caring about getting your nightgown stained or your feet covered in mud.

Bucky.

With another heart wrenching sob, you push yourself up, and begin the trek home, alone. You think about his eagerness to help, his smile, his arms around you. Barely able to see through the tears and the rain, you find your house and enter, leaning against the door once you close it. He is all you can think about.

Bucky.

***

You call in sick the next day at work, your heart heavy, thinking about the man who was always there when you needed him. Charles, of course, stops by with a large bouquet of flowers and a beautiful card, wishing you well. Smiling, you thank him for the gesture, kiss him on the cheek, and send him away to work, heart even heavier than before.

***

Shivers roll up your spine and tears flow harder than ever. Wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, you throw yourself onto the ground, sitting alone in the street. No one is out. No one is there to take you home. You sit there, letting yourself get colder and colder until you are numb, unable to feel anything but your sadness. 

“Excuse me, miss?” a voice calls from under the dim glow of the street lamp. “Are you alright?”

Your eyes strain through the tears to see a man approaching you. Nervousness and vulnerability strike you, and you curl further into yourself, never straying your eyes from the blurred figure. 

“My name is Bucky,” he says. “Can I walk you home?” 

The familiar words feel like ice water, prickling your skin in goosebumps. Your heart stops when the face becomes clear.

Fear turns into disbelief. Disbelief into hope.

“Bucky?” 

Your words get stuck in your throat as you rush over to engulf him in a hug. You feel Bucky’s strong arms encircle you.

“You can’t be real,” you whisper into his shirt that is growing damp from your tears. “I’m dreaming.”

“It’s no dream sweetheart,” Bucky replies softly, nuzzling into your hair. “I came to find you.”

You lean back to search his features. Lifting a hand to his cheek, you run your fingers across his jaw, his nose, his lips. Before you can think, you press your mouth to his. Bucky immediately responds, holding your body tighter, gripping the back of your head to control the kiss. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he mumbles against your lips.

“Bucky, I thought you would never come home,” you say, unable to mask the pain the words brought you.

His face softens. “I’d do just about anything to get back to you,” he replies before capturing your lips again.

“I love you, Bucky,” a smile. “I really do.”


End file.
